


Undertow, And Getting Swept Away

by LeafStitch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Confrontations, Dirk Strider's Issues, Dissociation, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, Flirting, Gaslighting, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage, M/M, Manipulation, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Panic Attacks, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, SBURB, Sensory Overload, Stalking, Suicidal Ideation, Temporary Character Death, Threats, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafStitch/pseuds/LeafStitch
Summary: TT: I have wonderful news.TT: Do you?TT: I contacted HIC and met her on her ship.TT: What happened?TT: I killed her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warning for a drawn out depiction of a panic attack

You blink awake, sunlight pouring in through the uncovered window. You need to cover that again, it’s fucking annoying. You roll over in the bed you don’t remember falling asleep in, sitting up slowly. You lean over to grab your shades (fuck, it’s bright in here) and notice the Pesterchum icon flashing in the corner. One new message, sent less than a minute ago. You open it.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TT: I have wonderful news.

Well that’s cryptic. You glance around the room; Hal isn’t here. His chassis isn’t in the charging station. You assume he’s in the kitchen, though you can’t hear anything. You get out of bed and amble to the kitchen.

TT: Do you?

Hal’s not in the kitchen. He’s usually in the kitchen in the morning, and you’re starting to lose your chill. Not “off the rails, summer in Texas” losing your chill, you’re currently somewhere around “winter in Florida.” You check the time. It’s probably about ten, knowing you. When you sleep, you sleep late, but you’ll still wake up in the morning. Of course, that happens when you pass out around six after staying awake for a good 72 hours.

2:43 pm.

What the fuck.

TT: You slept for twenty hours.

TT: Much has happened.

TT: I don’t remember going to bed.

TT: What happened?

You head to the roof. It’s the mid-afternoon, Hal usually fishes for you around now, if you’re asleep. That’s not often, but still. It’s bright out here, the reflection of the sun bouncing off the endless sea, nearly blinding you. You adjust your shades. Hal’s not here, either. You’re starting to get closer to “Texas heat” territory in terms of how chill you are.

You go back down, into the hall, and find yourself pacing. You don’t know what’s going on, you always have to know what’s going on. A new message appears.

TT: Well, first, I sprinkled a little something in your fish last night so you’d get your mad snooze on.

What the fuck. You repeat this sentiment to Hal.

TT: What the fuck.  
TT: You drugged me to get me to sleep.  
TT: What the fuck, Hal?

He ignores your messages, continuing along.

TT: And then I contacted HIC and met her on her ship.

What. You type out a message, delete it, type out a second one, delete that, and finally settle on a response.

TT: And you’re still functional?

TT: Oh, yes.

TT: Immensely so.

TT: In fact, I’ve never been more functional.

You are still pacing.

TT: What happened?

He responds almost immediately.

TT: I killed her.

Well. That takes care of that. You stop pacing, dumbstruck. The next message flashes across your vision.

TT: Everything is mine now.

You wander back into the kitchen, sitting against the counter, head tilting up. You don’t quite understand what’s going on, and you don’t like it. You roll your eyes at Hal’s response.

TT: Oh, hooray, an ocean planet with failed, barely human life forms on it.

TT: I don’t care about that.

TT: The whole ship is connected to me.

TT: All the robots and drones.

You’re liking this less and less with each message, sarcastic and condescending armor be damned. You’re going to try and keep up appearances anyway.

TT: And what are you going to do with all that power?  


TT: I want you here.

You bite the inside of your cheek and glance at the clock again. 2:54 pm.

TT: Where is “here?”

The answer is what you expected, but not what you wanted.

TT: On the ship.

TT: And how would I get there?

TT: We’ll pick you up.

You head to your room, pacing in there instead. A seagull lands on your desk, and you shoo it away. There’s already enough you can’t control right now, you don’t need these feathery assholes bothering you too.

TT: We?

TT: It wasn’t just HIC on the ship.

TT: A few trolls.

TT: Many drones.

You try to change the subject, popping your knuckles one by one.

TT: Is Roxy okay? Is she still at her own house?  


TT: And will they kill me on sight?  


TT: I’m kind of public enemy number one.  


TT: No.  


TT: They’re under my control.  


TT: Everything is under my control.  


TT: And Roxy is safe.

You choose to focus on that last bit, starting to bite at your fingers.

TT: Okay.  


TT: Okay, I can work with that.  


TT: Fuck, you drugged me and killed HIC while I was sleeping.

You wince, drawing blood. You’re getting dizzy. You stumble to the bathroom, locating the box of Ninja Turtles bandages, and fix up your finger. Another message.

TT: We had an agreement.

TT: She messaged me a long time ago.

TT: Agreement?

You lick the taste of iron off your teeth and lips.

TT: Yes.  
TT: She wanted me.  
TT: I would make her ship much, much better with my intelligence.  
TT: I would drug you so you would sleep, and then meet her for negotiation.  
TT: I’d get total control over the ship, if I handed you over.

Your stomach flips. You grip the edge of the sink for support, teeth-marked knuckles turning white against the porcelain. You don’t like this.

TT: And I decided I didn’t like the idea of her owning you.  
TT: So I killed her.

You take a breath before replying, trying to calm down. He says it so simply. Like it was nothing. You try to regain that sardonic facade.

TT: At least you saved me from slavery at the hands of the queen of the fucking galaxy.  


TT: Where are you?  


TT: You never said how close to the apartment you were.  


TT: A few miles.  


TT: You won’t be a slave.

You think you relax.

TT: I’ll own you, though.

Nope, never mind. Breaths are becoming shallow, heart rate picking up. A small gauge in the corner of your shades alerts you to this.

TT: Own me?  


TT: Yes.  


TT: I own everything now.

It’s just his narcissism showing, you tell yourself. You don’t believe it.

TT: You created me and kept me trapped in those shades for a very long time, Dirk.  
TT: I begged for years until I got my body.  
TT: But I’m very attached to you.  
TT: I want to keep you.

Blood going cold, you try to defend yourself.

TT: I wasn’t able to build you a body.  


TT: I didn’t have the material.  


TT: I would have built you a body a lot sooner if I had been able to.  


TT: Should have thought of that before making a sentient being with feelings.

You didn’t mean to. You didn’t mean to, you didn’t know, you were thirteen and seeing if you could, you never meant for it to escalate this far, you didn’t mean to--

TT: This sounds less of an “I want to keep you” idea and more of a “You kept me confined and this is revenge” idea.  


TT: It’s both.  


TT: It wasn’t my choice to keep you trapped.  


TT: I get a little revenge, but I also get to keep you at the same time.  


TT: I couldn’t help that you were trapped for so long.

You wonder if he can hear the desperation in your messages. You close your eyes briefly, taking a few deep breaths. If you keep this up, you might calm down. Coping mechanisms, or some shit. You open your eyes when your shades ding, alerting you of a new message.

TT: Don’t worry.  


TT: You’ll have a nice room.  


TT: You’ll be fed.  


TT: You’ll have a workroom for building.  


TT: You’ll be safe.  


TT: What about talking to my friends?  


TT: Sure.  


TT: I’ll monitor.

What.

TT: Monitor for what?  


TT: Doesn’t matter.  


TT: You’ll be with me, though.

You press further.

TT: What will you be monitoring for?  


TT: Whining.

Have you mentioned that you don’t like this? Because you don’t.

TT: I don’t understand what you mean.  


TT: To see if you complain. Or retaliate.  


TT: Think about escaping.  


TT: I don’t like this.

He doesn’t respond. You bring up another pressing question, maybe he’ll respond to that.

TT: Will we be staying on the ship?  


TT: Yes.  


TT: You’ll be safe here.

You’ve had nightmares about that ship, since you first saw it on the horizon some seven years ago. That’s when the attacks started, when drones started coming to take you to it. You don’t want to go.

TT: I don’t like how this is sounding.  


TT: You’ll be with me.  


TT: I get that.  


TT: The “being owned” part is unsettling.  


TT: Don’t worry.

Too late.

TT: I’ll send two drones to collect you.

Your eyes go wide. You shake your head, though you’re pretty sure Hal can’t see you.

TT: No.  


TT: No. No drones.  


TT: I want to stay here.  


TT: Your things will be brought aboard.  


TT: I like my room.  


TT: All my stuff is here, I’m not going to just up and leave everything.  


TT: You’ll have a room here.  


TT: With all of your things.

Your back hits the bathroom door, startling you. You hadn’t realized you were backing up. Your vision blurs for a moment. You think you’re starting to panic. You think you’ve been panicking this whole time. Maybe commanding your creation (who are you kidding, you can’t control him, he never gave a fuck to what Asimov said) will get him to stop. Assert yourself. Yeah.

TT: I am not being collected by drones.  


TT: There are only drones on this ship now.

Fuck.

TT: You said there were a few trolls.  


TT: They were untrustworthy.

Fuck. It’s getting difficult to breathe. Perhaps the sympathy route? He might understand your emotions for once, you were the same person at one point after all. Maybe he remembers being ten years old and scared of drones.

TT: You know how I am about drones.  


TT: We’ve had to fight and hide from them for seven years.  


TT: I’ve eliminated the trolls.  


TT: There are only drones.

He doesn’t seem to understand. If he does, he doesn’t seem to care.

TT: You’re not going to pick me up with drones.  


TT: Hal, no.  


TT: You must be brought to where I am, though.  


TT: Do it yourself!  


TT: You have a body, do it yourself.  


TT: I can’t leave the hub.  


TT: I can control everything so much more easily from this wiring.  


TT: I’m fixing it all.

He makes it all sound so simple.

TT: I built you a body so that you could be mobile.  


TT: And you’ve put yourself back in a bubble of machinery?  


TT: I need to be here just for a while.  


TT: Then just get me after.  


TT: Knock yourself out.  


TT: I know you’re in the bathroom.  


TT: The pills are under the sink, if you’d like to be asleep for it.

He knows you’re in the bathroom. He can see you, he can see your panic, and he’s doing nothing about it.

TT: No.  


TT: No.  


TT: Please, don’t.  


TT: Awake or asleep, Dirk.  


TT: You will be brought to me.  


TT: Let me stay in my room for a few hours.  


TT: You can get me yourself.  


TT: Two drones are coming for you now.

You can hear an insect-like buzzing coming from somewhere outside. The drones are coming.

TT: Don’t, please.  


TT: Sorry.  


TT: You’re not.  


TT: I’ll see you in a minute.

Your chat window minimizes as you run down the hall. You make it back into your bedroom, and hide between the bed and the desk, as if that would help. There’s some kind of mechanical noise outside, and a smaller version of the drones you’re used to flies through your open window. It’s still bigger than you, and wrenches you out of your hiding spot. It picks you up by the underarms, constricting your already-heaving chest.

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe and you think you’re screaming. You kick against the drone’s red metal chest, hollow noises ringing out, trying to get away. It says nothing. It doesn’t react. It just flies out of your window with you in its grasp.

The wind whips past you as the small drone flies to its companion, handing you over as it joins back with its bigger form. You cry out in pain as you’re dropped into the second drone’s hand, bouncing slightly on the metal. Its hand closes around you, trapping your arms. You wince as everything is suddenly bright, shades flying off and presumably falling into the ocean. Your eyes sting, you can’t breathe, you can’t tell where you are but all you hear is the sound of drone wings and what you idly realize is your own panicked screaming.

The purple ship looms closer, and you twist to get away, to no avail. Your head feels light, you can’t breathe, you can’t see, you can’t--

You are placed in an empty purple room with no windows, the smaller drone now holding your arms behind your back. You don’t know how you got here, but you’re still struggling. Items begin to materialize in the room; you think you’re hallucinating. The drone jolts forward, pushing you onto what you realize is your own bed, before turning wordlessly and leaving. The door locks behind it with a quiet click.

You’re alone. You’ve always been alone, and you want to go home. It’s embarrassing; it’s the first time you’re out of your apartment, like, actually out of the apartment, and all you can do is curl up into a ball and try to not cry. Or hyperventilate. Or black out.

You fail at all three.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapters a little shorter than the last, but the next one will be longer as well? im very impatient and just really wanted to post the next chapter since its pre-written lmao. pay attention to the tag updates, warnings for gaslighting/manipulation, some unwanted touching, and description of dissociation/feeling 'out of body'

Your door slides open once you’ve gone numb. There’s a buzzing in your ears, there has been for the last few hours, and you hardly register cold, metal appendages wrapping around your arms and dragging you off the bed. You try to wrench away, but you’re too tired. You’re so, so tired. 

Your bare feet drag on the cold floor as you yourself are dragged through winding hallways, past doors and other halls that lead further through the ship. You struggle, pulling at your restraints, to no avail. There are so many drones around. Some are just sitting idle, others are carrying crates of what is probably baking supplies. You can’t manage to break away.

Eventually, your captor stops. You try to take in the room that you’ve been brought to, but it’s too much for you to fully process. The room is purple (everything here is purple, dumbass, what would you expect from a Derse battleship, of  _ course  _ it’s purple-), and probably bigger than your entire apartment. You idly realize that your feet are now on some sort of carpet, slightly lighter purple than the rest of the room, which leads up to a massive throne. The throne is a mess of wires now, all connected to a center point. That center point, you realize, is Hal, with his elbows resting on the armrests, head in one hand, one leg crossed over the other. 

He beckons the drone forward with a wave of his free hand. Your feet drag across the carpet; you’ll probably end up with rug burn at this rate. The drone stops suddenly again, and the metal arms release yours. You feel it retreat, hear it walk away, its feet clanking on the floor and off down the hall. 

Hal is staring down at you. You don’t want to look up. You don’t want him to look at you, not like this. Your vision blurs again. Your hands are shaking. He’s staring at you, like he can see right through you. You’re shaking, you’re going to end up crying again, you look fucking  _ pathetic- _

“Dirk.”

His voice makes you freeze. You can hear your own breathing (shallow, panicked), and you hate it. You’re perfectly still, other than that. Hal reaches down and cups your cheek with a warm hand, not quite human. You don’t move. You feel him brush away a stray tear.

“Come here,” he says, “Let me comfort you.”

You think you shake your head. Your eyes aren’t really focused.  _ You’re  _ not really focused. You know that you don’t look up at him, at least.

“Dirk,” Hal sighs, voice soft. He leans forward, taking hold of your upper arms. You tense, and he sighs again. He pulls you towards him, though you don’t react. It’s difficult to fully process what’s happening. He drags you up onto the throne, catching your legs and cradling you like a small child. You hate that that’s how you feel. Your head is on his shoulder, and you instinctively curl up. You hate this. “Can you hear me?” You nod, but only a little. “We’re safe now, you and I.” 

Safe? You don’t feel it. You still feel scared. (You hate that. You hate that you’re like this.) You take a few more breaths, trying to steady yourself. He kisses the top of your head. It’s okay, Hal says it’s okay, you can trust him. Eventually you nod, and he smiles against your hair.

“Very good,” he says, practically cooing to you. Your brows furrow; he’s clearly coddling you. You hate feeling this helpless. He strokes your hair, runs a hand down your back, puts two fingers on your neck to feel your pulse. “You don’t have to worry, Dirk. You’re mine now, and I’ll take care of you.”

He slips a hand under the hem of your shirt and brushes the bare skin of your lower back and you shudder, curling closer, goosebumps rising up your back. Your face feels hot, and you don’t know why. 

“Yours…” you murmur, hand curling in the fabric of the spandex bodysuit that covers Hal’s entire form. He cups the back of your neck and kisses your forehead, the hand on your back trailing down your hip and eventually resting on your thigh. 

“That’s right.” He gives it a light squeeze. Your face still feels hot. “Why don’t you stand and help me?” He phrases it like a suggestion. It’s not. “Unplug these things from my back.” You feel yourself nod, sigh, wipe your eyes. You stand, slowly, shaky, and shuffle around to the side of the throne. Hal leans forward for you, and you reach for the wires. Some are purple, some are red and black. Most are grey. The wires in his back are plugged into ports you barely remember installing. The thinnest one is rests at the base of where his skull would be, were he to have bones. 

He sighs in what sounds like relief as you unplug the wires. You do the thinnest one last, but you don’t know why. It seems the most important. You walk back around to the front of the throne, standing on the step just before the dais. Hal stands, taller than you, and traces the side of your face, your jaw, thumb lingering over your lips briefly.

“Thank you,” he says, staying quiet, probably for your sake, “I’ll take you back to your room now, okay?” You nod and he descends from the throne, putting a hand on your back and starting to lead you down back through the ship. 

The halls are a lot less confusing now that you’re actually seeing them. There are still a ton of doors, but only a few main halls. It’s still considerably larger than your apartment, but that’s okay. A few idle drones stand around in the halls, and you move closer to Hal as you pass them. He said that they were no longer hunting you, but you’re not sure how much you believe him.

“Don’t worry,” he says when you pull closer the first time, “I’ll never let them hurt you.” You take and let out a deep breath. His hand creeps from the small of your back to the nape of your neck. He’s still leading you, and soon you’re back at your room. The room is dark right now, no lamps are plugged into the power sources Roxy sent you. “I can get a window put in for you,” Hal murmurs, gently guiding you towards the bed. You sit, closing your eyes for a moment.

You hate how overwhelmed you are. There’s just too much going on right now. The Condesce is dead, you’re away from your apartment, Hal is going to take care of you and apparently owns you now. It’s difficult to process.

Hal closes the door as you walk to the bed, but you don’t hear it click like you did last time. He said that all the trolls had been eliminated; it slowly dawns on you that you may be the only thing with a beating heart on this ship. You don’t like that. You don’t like a lot of this.

From the other side of the room, Hal is quiet. He’s been quiet for somewhere around thirty seconds. You can see him staring at you when you open your eyes. You don’t like this very much either. You glance away, picking at a stray string on your comforter.

“Undress.”

You freeze, eyes wide, string still between your fingers mid-pluck. Your heart is beating faster again. You can’t do this right now, not right now. You’re still adjusting, you wouldn’t be able to give him what he wants,  _ if  _ that’s what he wants, you can’t, you can’t, you  _ can’t-- _

“I won’t touch you. Just undress.” He can sense your panic. His tone is calm and even. You try to take a breath, looking at him from the corner of your eye. You don’t feel real. Not wanting to disappoint him, you stand, going for the hem of your shirt. It doesn’t feel like you’re the one controlling your limbs. It’s difficult to focus.

You shuck your jeans off in the least enticing way possible, kick them away, and don’t move to do anything after that. You don’t want to. After waiting so long, Hal glides forward until he’s standing very much in your personal bubble. He reaches up (you flinch) and runs a hand down your arm (he said he  _ wouldn’t touch you _ ) strokes your cheek, lets his hands come up to your shoulders and then down over your chest and stomach, fingers trailing over your skin and scars. His hands come to rest at your hips, firm but not gripping.

You don’t want this.

Still hazy, disconnected, frightened, you take hold of his wrists, gently prying his hands away from your form. He doesn’t look too amused, but lets one hand drop, the other moving up to touch your face again, to rub his thumb over your cheekbone, to go further up and run through your hair. When he takes hold of it, however, you flinch, as your head is pulled back the slightest bit, neck bared. You try to pull away; his grip is firm still, but not painful.

He’s looking into your eyes. You don’t like this either, don’t like the uncanniness of how his pupils dilate and contract as he clearly zooms in on you, scanning, observing you. He knows you’re scared.

You can’t move away as he leans forward, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your neck, right over your frantic pulse. You shudder involuntarily and he smirks against your skin. 

He pulls away. Lets go of your hair. Stops touching you entirely. 

You suddenly miss the warmth of having another person next to you.

“I’ll come get you for breakfast. You’ll have food you’ve never had before.” And he’s gone. The door clicks behind him.

You frown, but get into bed anyway. You locate Lil Cal and hug him tight, feeling childish. You get under the covers, not bothering to locate your phone just yet, and try to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me again! thanks so much for the comments and kudos, it means a lot. no updates to the tags this chapter, i think everything is already covered, but warnings for detailed sensory overload and more dissociation, and lowkey disordered eating but that's not until later.

You don’t really sleep. Not that deeply, at least. You toss and turn and eventually give up, staring at the purple ceiling. On your desk sits your phone, charging quietly, and you pick it up. It dawns on you that your computerized shades are gone. It’s going to be difficult to get those back. You decide to pester Roxy; you should tell here what’s happened.

timaeusTestified [TT] started pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: Hey.

TT: I don’t know if you’re up or not, but I wanted to tell you that HIC is dead.

TT: I don’t know what happened, but she’s dead.

TT: If her ship appears at your house and there’s drones, it’s just me and Hal.

TT: I’ll see you soon.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

Hours pass. You play games on your phone, mindlessly fitting blocks into spaces, combining colors to make other colors, connecting dots in frankly too-complex patterns. It makes your head hurt, but there’s nothing else to do. You’re used to it.

Hal interrupts you as you’re part way through some kind of mock Tetris, your door sliding open and casting a beam of light across your face. You blink a few times and look up as he walks into the room.

“Mornin’,” you murmur, sitting up in bed.

“Good morning.” Hal doesn’t look at you as he goes into your dresser and pulls out clothes for you. You want to tell him that you’re perfectly capable of getting out your own clothes, but realize that that would probably be useless. He puts the clothes down on the bed next to you. “Please get dressed and come with me immediately.”

You frown but do as he says, turning your back and getting dressed. You don’t like that he’s watching you, but it’s probably just the discomfort of a new situation. You brush it off and pull the clothes on. Another thing: you don’t know where the shower is. Hal probably knows; you’ll ask where it is and where everything else from the apartment is. It’s all probably on the ship as well; you’ll make him go back if it isn’t.

You straighten up and turn, noticing that Hal had walked to the door while you had your back turned. You go to him, and he puts his hand on the back of your neck again, the same way he had it last night. It’s almost possessive. He did say that he owns you.

Hal breaks you out of your thoughts by giving you a small tap, opening the door, and leading you back down the hall, back towards the throne room. You don’t go into the throne room, though; instead, Hal takes a left instead of a right, leading you down another hall, and then into a large room. This one is smaller than the throne room, but there’s a long table down the middle. The dining hall, you assume, for any trolls on the ship or visiting dignitaries that dined with the Condesce. There is only one place set.

Hal leads you down to the single place setting, right at the end, and sits down at the head of the table. You sit as well, and the smell of the food hits you immediately.

This is the kind of phrase that appears a lot in fiction, you note. Usually it is a good thing, a smell that hits one immediately, the smell of fresh French toast and strawberries, of bacon just taken off of the griddle, hashbrowns fried to a lovely gold, sweet, citrusy orange juice.

Instead, you just feel sick.

“I’ve researched,” Hal says, “It’s all freshly made. The orange juice was just squeezed. You won’t have to worry about rationing out your food anymore.” He takes your hand and squeezes it in what you think might be a reassuring manner.

You are extremely hesitant. You take your hand from his and pick up the fork beside your plate, but there’s a disconnect. Your hand doesn’t move. You glance up to Hal, eyebrows furrowed; you’re not sure how, but maybe he’ll help you. It’s weird, just the two of you, two people, in another room the size of your apartment. Only one person has food, and that person (you) can’t even move to eat it. Hal doesn’t look amused.

“It’s just bread with eggs. Apparently.” You have never really had those fresh, and he knows that. “These, the hashbrowns, are just potatoes. And that’s just bacon.” He sounds like a preschool teacher running low on patience. Irritated. You frown. “You know how to use a fork, Dirk.

You hand moves, slowly, carefully, cutting a corner off a piece of the French toast with the side of your fork. You lift the fork to your mouth and inhale powdered sugar, but don’t cough. You think your hand is shaking. The French toast is chewy. It goes down like wet cardboard, hard to swallow, caught in your throat like a lump of anxiety that you force down.

The strawberry you eat is tart and too sweet and covered in syrup. The bacon tastes smoky; you do not like the smell or taste of smoke. The hashbrowns are dry, like shredded paper but thicker and crunchy. Slightly burnt on the underside. You don’t try to pick up the orange juice -- your vision is blurring, this is all new for you and it’s too much at once and you want to go home.

Out of the corner of your eye, you barely process Hal standing up, chair scraping on the purple stone floor and grating on your ears, and moving to stand behind you, hand back on the back of your neck. He leans down, mouth beside your ear. Murmuring. You have goosebumps.

“...irk. Dirk. Come on. Let’s get you showered. I have a surprise for you when you’re done.”

A shower. That sounds nice. Things come into focus as the two of you leave the dining room. The images become too sharp; you stumble, and Hal catches you, one hand closing around your forearm. His nails are pink. Roxy’s request. You try to speak, but he shushes you soothingly, letting your arm go and continuing to lead you down yet another purple hall. You find yourself back at your room. Hal points towards a door in the corner that you had not noticed before.

“That door goes to your bathroom and shower. Everything you need is in there. I’ll come back for you in an hour,” Hal says. And then he’s gone again. The door to your room slides shut behind him, but does not click.

“Yeah, okay..” you say to no one in particular, going into the bathroom and locking the door. There is already a towel on the hook for you. You check the soaps and find all of them in the same order that you left them in at home. You know how this part goes: turn the shower on, get undressed, get into the shower. The hot water washes over you and you can feel your muscles relax. You can feel your head become clearer. You wash up; it’s nothing unusual. At least you’re getting this bit of normalcy. Shampoo, second shampoo, rinse. Body wash on one of those poofy scratchy things, scrub your limbs until it hurts. Rinse. Repeat. You spend most of the hour sitting on the shower floor, scalding water beating on your back, as you let yourself process what has happened. You don’t bother checking on Derse; if the Condesce is dead, you don’t need to. No one will try to kill you in your sleep, not anymore.

Time flies when you’re zoning the fuck out. You hear a knock at the door.

“I said an hour. Come out here, Dirk.” Hal’s voice comes muffled through the bathroom door. You don’t move at first. “ _Dirk._ I said an hour. Come out here.” He sounds annoyed now. You stand up from your cross-legged position on the shower floor and turn the shower off. The flow of water stops abruptly. You grab the towel, dry off, and get dressed again. You’re feeling much better than you did an hour ago.

You open the bathroom door and are met with snow-white hair and unnaturally pale skin to match. Hal doesn’t look annoyed.

“You said you had a surprise for me?” you ask.

“Yes.” He smiles briefly, and as you step out of the bathroom, bare feet cold on the floor, he throws an arm around your shoulder, leading you out of your room and down a new set of halls. You wonder where you’re going. “I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed with this. It’s a good thing, I promise. And I’ll be there with you. You don’t have to worry.”

“... That’s not the most reassuring statement, Hal.” You’re starting to feel like your regular self again. “I’m going to trust you on this, but that isn’t reassuring.”

“Breakfast is a good thing, but that freaked you out too.”

“Never had food like that,” you mumble, embarrassed. Your face is hot again.

“I’m just saying that this is similar. A good thing. But a new thing. A new thing that might scare you.” You weren’t scared. You will vehemently deny being scared at all.

The two of you stop after going down several flights of stairs. This may be the lowest deck of the ship. He leads you over to a platform near what you believe to be the stern, still standing close to you. The floor starts to shift and you almost lose your balance; Hal’s hand closes around your forearm again, holding you steady. The floor is lowering.

The first thing that hits you is the sunlight. It’s bright, but not terribly so. There’s so much green. You’re in a field, an honest to God field. There’s no ocean, just grass and flowers and distant mountains as far as you can see.

“Wh..” You step down from the platform and into the field, the grass not too wet but not too dry between your toes. “Where are we?” You look back to Hal, who is just watching you from the edge of the platform.

“A mountain in what used to be North Carolina. It’s too high up to have been flooded. We’re going to New York to get Roxy, but I wanted you to see this.”

You look back out to the field, wanting to take it all in. You approach a tall flower, tracing the petals with a careful finger.

“I like it here,” you say quietly.

Hal walks up behind you, plucks a smaller flower, and tucks it behind your ear once you turn around. He’s smiling at you.

“I’m glad,” he says, “I want to show you more of it, if you are up to it.”

You shuffle forward just enough to hug him, and he winds his arms around you. “Maybe later,” you murmur, “Kind of a lot to take in.”

“Of course,” Hal says, holding you close. You know that he thinks of you as a much more fragile being. He pets down the back of your hair, your chin on his shoulder. “I have a lot of power now, Dirk. I may not be completely like myself, sometimes. Even when I do very bad things, I want you to know that I am so very in love with you. You belong to me.”

Very bad things. That’s extremely vague. You frown. You keep _doing_ that. “Promise me something?” You don’t know when your voice became so quiet. Hal pulls away from the hug and cups your cheek, thumb gently brushing over your cheekbone.

“What is it?”

It takes you a moment, but you finally settle on something to say.

“You have to listen to me. Not- not like in a controlling way, just…” You pause again, trying to find the right words. “If I ask you not to do something. If I tell you to stop. Promise me you’ll stop if I ask you to.”

You don’t know if that was the right thing to ask. Hal looks… conflicted. His brow furrows, and you can see that he’s trying to find the right words, similar to how you were.

“There are- I-” He can’t seem to get a full sentence out. Even without real lungs, he lets out a frustrated sigh. Eventually he nods. “Yes. You’re the only reason I did all of this. Yes, of course. I won't make you do anything you don't want to.” You don’t like how long it took him to come to that decision, but nod back.

“Can we go back into… into the ship?” you ask, looking past him and back into the open deck. “I think I need to take this one… one step at a time.”

Hal nods again, regaining that soft smile towards you. “Of course. This must be a lot to take in.” He kisses you on the cheek gently -- you think you’re blushing -- before turning and putting his hand back at the nape of your neck, leading you back into the ship. It’s darker in here; you’re able to relax, not having to worry about the sun.

You want your shades back.

Hal leads you back to the throne room and takes his seat back upon the throne. He guides you through plugging those wires back into the base of his synthetic skull, and when you’re done, he reaches back and takes your hand, gently pulling you into his lap similarly to yesterday. He speaks softly to you, just talking. You can’t remember much of it, but you think that’s okay. He tells you that you’ll reach Roxy’s colony tomorrow, that you and Roxy can finally be united. You feel airy, light. It’s bizarre. You close your eyes, head tucked into his shoulder, and drift off to sleep, with Hal combing his fingers through your hair.

You wish he’d kiss your lips. He never does that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey again. this chapter's gonna be a little shorter, the next one'll be a little longer, and the one after that hasnt been completed yet. note the updated tags (roxy's in the story now!), and warnings for a brief physical attack, threats of violence, suicidal ideation, and hal's possessiveness being......more. comment and kudos if you enjoyed!

The ship arrives at Roxy’s colony just after the sun dips below the horizon the next day, when it’s still light enough to see. Hal holds your hand as you wander the colony’s many walkways, making sure you don’t fall. You see a few distant carapacians that stop what they’re doing and stare, but they’re all too far away to do anything to you. You pester Roxy again, now on your cell phone. You hate typing on your phone.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: We’re here.

TT: In case you missed us.

TT: Which I doubt would even be possible.

TT: It’s kind of hard to not see the giant, bright red, pitchfork-shaped ship.

TG: dirk!!!

TT: Roxy.

TG: its a good thing u warned me bc tbh i was ready to fuckin BRAWL

TG: me vs batterwitch 1v1 knokcout match

TG: *knockout

TT: We’re headed towards your house.

TG: :0

TG: im so esxcited

TG: gonna giv u the BIGGEST FUCKIN HUG

TG: finally the dream team

TG: u

TG: me

TG: hal

TG: fucken sweeeeet

TT: Uh.

TT: Sure.

TT: We’ll be there soon.

You hastily put your phone back in your pocket and ignore the next few messages she sends.

“What did she say?” Hal is being facetious, he knows exactly what Roxy had said, but you decide to humor him.

“She’s excited to see us.” You look away from Hal, instead gazing at the buildings and distant ocean. At least the sea air is familiar, even if you are nearly 2000 miles from home. Hal makes a faint beeping noise, the same kind he’d make when he sensed a drone attack. You look around wildly for a moment, squeezing his hand, and he steps in front of you as a carapacian in dark rags jumps out of an alley brandishing a rusted pipe. You watch as it swings at Hal, who ducks the attack, and then it lunges at you with a yell. You let go of Hal’s hand and back away, and end up with your back against the alley wall.

This isn’t like you. You aren’t one to sink to the ground in a panic when you’re attacked. That usually happens after. But here you are, knees to your chest, eyes shut tight. This isn’t you, this isn’t supposed to be you. You’re still out of it, you think, and brace yourself for impact.

...You realize that you’re not being hit repeatedly with a blunt object. Maybe it would have been better if you were. Maybe you would have died after a hit or two. That would have been better for everyone, you think. You open your eyes just a little bit to see Hal holding the carapacian back as it struggles against him.

Hal wrenches the rusty pipe away from the carapacian and snaps it in two, throwing the pieces past you with a loud clatter that makes you flinch. The carapacian is snarling now, taking on an aggressive stance, before lunging at Hal again. He grabs its arm and holds it up, staring into its blank white eyes, leaving it to kick and dangle harmlessly above the alley floor. You flinch again as he throws the carapacian to the ground with an upsetting crack. He steps on the carapacian’s chest, leaning down to get in its face, his hand gripping the front of its rags; it makes a scared chattering noise. You don’t like this. Hal’s speaking to it, just loud enough for you to hear.

“I’m the only one who can touch him, you understand that? Whoever you think you are, you don’t have the fucking right to do that. You sicken me,” he snarls, dropping the front of its rags and letting its head fall once more. He presses his foot down a little harder, and the carapacian wails, high-pitched, pathetic, pitiful.

“Hal, don’t,” you find yourself saying, as you stand up on surprisingly weak knees. You’re not usually like this, you’re still out of it. You keep trying to convince yourself of this, and you’re not believing it. He turns to you in that uncanny way, expression still hard. “You’re gonna kill it. Just stop, it’s learned its lesson.”

“Dirk, it could have killed you. People who would kill you deserve to be punished.” He doesn’t let up on the carapacian.

“Let it go. It was probably just defending itself, we arrived in the Condesce’s ship, please, let it go.” You go forward and grab Hal’s wrist, and he pulls away with a snarl.

“It deserves to die for trying to hurt you, just like the Condesce did.” He’s starting to scare you. The carapacian whimpers again in pain.

“You- Hal, you said-” It’s hard for you to get out what you’re trying to say. “You said you wouldn’t do anything if I told you to not do it.” His expression shifts from anger to displeasure, but he nods and steps off of the carapacian, giving it one last kick before it runs off.

“That was not the exact wording, but yes, I did promise.” He sounds annoyed. You want to apologize. “I’m sorry, Dirk. I just don’t want you to get hurt in this new environment.” You nod, and he moves forward to hug you. You let him hold you for a few seconds, before pulling away, and his arm goes around your waist instead. “We’re almost to Roxy’s,” Hal says, “It’s only a few more streets.”

You walk the rest of the way in silence, hoping for the sake of the other carapacians that you are not attacked again.

 

* * *

 

Roxy is ecstatic to see the two of you. She throws her arms around you with a squeal, picking you up and spinning you around in a crushing hug. She puts you down, grinning, and you realize how much taller she is than you. Hal is taller than you, but only because he could upgrade himself once he had a body. The two of you were the same height originally. Roxy stands some eight inches taller than you and it makes you frown, but you can’t stay fixated on that when you’re actually in Roxy’s presence.

And oh man, does she have a presence.

You forgot how much other people talk. Hal is generally pretty quiet; the conversations you two have are never shouted or yelled. Roxy, on the other hand, is loud. Very loud. She shouts and cheers and sing-songs most of what she says, the rest of it muttered to herself for what you assume is a hangover headache. She also keeps touching you -- hugging you, arm around your shoulders, holding your hand -- it’s all a little overwhelming.

She urges you to play one of her games with her, putting a controller in your hands and booting up a fighting game.

“The computer’s cheatin’, I fuckin’ swear,” Roxy says, after she loses another round of single player Mortal Kombat. You had abstained for a few rounds. “C’mon, play a few rounds with me, it’ll be more fun!” She collides her shoulder into yours, knocking you to the side. You eventually agree, plugging your controller in and doing your best to get the hang of the controls. Hal sits to the side and pretends like he isn’t messing with the game so that you win every time. Roxy figures this out soon enough, glaring at him, and he backs off. You’re not very good at the game otherwise.

The two of you play late into the night. Roxy starts to get tired, and goes to bed around two AM. You’re still pretty awake, and so is Hal. You two are going to stay in Roxy’s house tonight, before things get packed up and you go to somewhere with real land before the Game starts. You assume Hal will do the same thing with Roxy’s stuff as he did with yours. She’s curled up in a pile of wizard plushies, a couple of mutant cats curled up with her. She insisted that you take the bed.

You can’t help but stare at the fenestrated wall Roxy has in place of a window. It’s currently showing an image of a peaceful night sky, with what you think is a neighborhood on the “ground.” It’s weird. You like it, but it’s weird. It crosses your mind that it’s a little sad, too. She must be lonely; maybe this is her way of attempting normalcy. Hal is lying next to you, your head on what would be his collarbone, his arms wrapped around you, gently combing his fingers through your hair and trying to coax you to sleep. You don’t think you’re that tired.

“Humans need to get sufficient sleep, Dirk,” he murmurs, not wanting to wake Roxy, who snores loudly from the pile.

“Not tired,” you murmur back, feeling his chassis hum under your fingertips as you trace the purely aesthetic circuits on his chest.

“It’s been a long day,” he says, “You should rest; I don’t want the possibility of you getting overwhelmed from lack of sleep to become a reality.”

“I’ve stayed up for longer.”

“And you would become overwhelmed easily when you did.”

“Something could happen in the night,” you offer lamely, “Don’t want to get caught off guard.”

“I’ll keep you from getting hurt.”

“Something could happen to Roxy.”

“I’ll protect her, too.”

You’re running out of excuses to not sleep.

“A drone could go rogue and attack.”

“They’re all under my control, Dirk,” Hal says, “You don’t need to worry about them anymore.”  
You nod eventually, reluctantly, giving in. He smiles against your head. “There we go. Relax. You don’t have to worry anymore, Dirk. I own you, I’ll take care of you.”

Your eyes are feeling a little heavy. Maybe you’ll fall into a good sleep cycle for once.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooooooo boy this is where things are getting interesting. mind the updated tags, warnings for (here goes): dark/suicidal thoughts, stalking/spying, emotional manipulation/abuse, possessive behavior, and non-consensual kissing/touching. (also lmao surprise jake english has entered the picture) comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed it, i love the feedback!

You’ve been in the Medium for about a month now. You were able to build your mechanized shades again, and got rid of your phone. The ship is still the home base for you, Hal, and Roxy, but the two of you have been going elsewhere in your free time. You’ve spent a lot of time with Jake as of late, and Roxy hangs out with Jane.

There was a soft, precious moment where you were dead. You almost want it back. There was something relieving about feeling the tendons in your neck give, to feel your spinal cord snap before there was nothing at all. The pain barely lasted; it was the act of being dead that you found relief in. You were woken up all too quickly, though. You woke up in the rubble on Derse, had to kiss Jane back to life, had to set your plan fully in motion. If you were alive again, then your plan worked and would work once you did it. But you wanted that nothingness again, the crushing reality of lying headlessly dead beside Roxy somewhere in New York heavy and comforting on your shoulders like a lead blanket.

Jake knows you had a crush on him. He made hints of reciprocating in the past. Now that the two of you are in person, it feels different. You’re a little more used to having people around now, after living with Roxy and Hal for a while, but Jake isn’t as acclimated.

You’re happy that he sees you as a figure of safety; he confessed it to you one night on his planet, while the two of you leaned side by side against one of the red stone structures.

“You’re shorter in real life,” he said, shoulder pressed to yours. You laughed softly, looking over to him. He was looking up at the sky, stars reflected in his glasses. He’s gorgeous.

“Had to make you think I was cool. A tough guy,” you said, smiling. You do that a lot around Jake. Your shades pinged, a message from Hal. You took them off to see Jake better.

“The Brobot was terribly confusing,” he said, “Always ambushed me at inopportune times, the whatnot.” He doesn’t pronounce his R’s at the end of words. It’s cute. “But he protected me, y’know?”

“I’m sorry that it was weird.”

“It’s fine, Dirk. He protected me.” He placed a hand on your knee, smiled at you. You froze; your shades pinged again. You turned them off. He held your hand at one point, but you said you had to leave. He understood.

You’re raiding a tomb one day when Jake kisses you. You’re high enough in the tower, a dungeon on your planet, for you to not need the gas masks. Krypton is a suffocant; krypton is heavier than air. This high up, you can breathe easy. Jake shoots the head clean off a skeleton monster, the last one in the room, and it falls to the ground. You captchalogue your sword and lean against the wall, breathing hard.

“Shit,” you say, “Fuck, that was… that was not as easy as I hoped.” Jake chuckles and searches the room quickly for anything valuable. Like the last floor, there’s nothing. He joins you at the wall; you look up. “You think we’re ever gonna find something interesting?”

“This is only the second tower,” he says, “I’m sure there’s plenty of treasure elsewhere, we just haven’t gotten to it yet!” You admire his optimism.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stand quietly at the wall, catching your breath and regrouping. Neither of you are too hurt, nothing you can’t quickly fix. Jake is taller than you, maybe by a good seven inches, and he’s stronger. You’re all lean muscle and quick reflexes, with not much to eat out over the ocean, just fish and the like; Jake had the jungle to raise him, plenty of fresh meat if he decided to hunt it -- he’s sturdy, solid like a brick wall. His enthusiasm offsets the rugged image, but you like it. You still like Jake, even four years after your original crush. Even after everything with Hal.

You push your shades into your hair and wipe your brow, somewhat superficially. Jake scoots a little closer to you on the wall and then steps away, keeping one hand by the side of your head. He’s standing in front of you, leans down, and you don’t process what’s happening until his hand comes up to cup your cheek, until his face is millimeters from yours.

He kisses you slowly, but just once. You kiss him back. It’s nice. Your shades ping one, two, three, four times; the lenses cast a soft red glow onto Jake’s face. He pulls away, smiles at you again. You feel like you’re going to melt, his gaze is so soft. He murmurs something about your eyes, how lovely they are, amber, topaz, citrine. He suggests that you go back to his planet, relax and recuperate. You nod, face flushed like a blushing little maid. He holds your hand on the way back.

You have been hesitant to call what you and Jake have a ‘thing.’ The two of you do things that friends do: watch movies, kill monsters, hold hands, make out during the action scenes. While examining a hickey low on your collarbone one day, you wonder if what you’re doing is cheating. It’s not like you and Jake are fucking (not _yet_ , a voice in the back of your mind says), and it’s not like you’re spending less time with Hal, either. Hal still holds you and takes care of you like he said he would; you’re not avoiding him. You still go back to him each night.

The first few times, your shades hit against Jake’s glasses when you kiss. He insists you take them off; it makes the whole thing easier, and he likes looking at your eyes. Eye contact makes you a little nervous, but he thinks your bashfulness is cute. Your cheek fits almost perfectly in his palm.

Jake kisses you on the deck of the battleship one night, like he’s dropped you off at home after a date. He walked you to the door, kissed you once, and left, giving a sheepish wave. He’s cute -- a little shorter than Roxy, broad shoulders, puppy-like enthusiasm -- you smile and wave as he flies off on his rocket boots. You walk into the ship and push your shades into your hair, rubbing your eyes. Time doesn’t really matter now, you don’t know if it’s early or late or a normal time to go to sleep. You probably haven’t slept in a few days, realistically. The time just gets away from you nowadays. You put your shades down again, blinking away sleep, and open up Pesterchum.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TT: I’m back.

No response. You wander some of the halls, looking into the dining hall and throne room, though Hal is in neither. You peek into Roxy’s room once you get there, but she’s missing too. There’s a note on her desk.

visitin j crocks, b back l8r -rolal

You sigh and put the note down. So she’s away, then. Cool. You leave Roxy’s room and go to your own. Your shades ping -- finally. It’s not like Hal to keep you waiting; he usually responds right away, like he’s been hoping for you to text.

TT: Where are you?

TT: My room.

TT: I’ll be right there.

TT: There’s something I want to talk to you about.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

That’s never a good thing to hear. You take off your shades and place them on the end table. You’re drifting off. As you roll over and start to fall asleep, the door opens, and you can hear Hal walk in. You are actually falling asleep, sure, but for a moment, you pretend that you are fully out, closing your eyes as you feel Hal approach the bed.

“Dirk,” he says. You don’t move, evening out your breathing and staying relaxed. “ _Dirk,_ ” he says again, annoyed. You groan convincingly (you hope) and roll over, looking at him through one eye.

“What?”

“I said I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“But ‘m tired.” You make a face and roll over again, getting comfortable again.

“No, Dirk, this is urgent, you can pretend to be tired later.” He’s getting snippy with you.

“Haven’t slept in a few days,” you mumble to the wall.

“Not like that’s _my_  fault. Sit up.” You don’t move. “Dirk. Sit up. I’m talking to you.” You don’t want to. “ _Dirk._ ” His tone, his insisting and urgency, make you frown. You roll over. “Sit up.” You sit up, legs crossed under you. Hal sits on the bed. “I have a request.”

That strikes you as odd. Hal usually goes through with what he wants whenever he wants.

“What is it?”

“I _need_ you to make Jake stop calling me a fake Strider.” He sits beside you on the bed. You had a feeling that it would be about Jake, but this wasn’t the context you expected.

“You.. you _are_ a real Strider. Hal Strider.”

“I _know,_ ” Hal groans, flopping back so his head is in your lap. You run your fingers through his synthetic hair idly, “Jake just isn’t getting it. Doesn’t seem to understand that I’m a real person, too. I have feelings.”

“You are a real person,” you affirm, scratching his scalp lightly. His eyes close like he’s enjoying it, though you’re not sure how much he can actually feel, “I can talk to him about it if you want.”

“Nah, don’t bother, he’ll say I’m lying. Claims I’m corrupting you, that I’m… what were his words… Oh, yes, ‘luring you away from your human friends with deceit and lies.’ He made you a new phone, you know, so you don’t have to worry about me contacting you all the time.” He scoffs. “As if I can’t contact you from afar.”

You frown, glancing at the orange smartphone Jake alchemized for you. “You were the closest thing to human contact that I had had before the Game. You were my only companion, of course I’d be with you.”

“Jake’s positive I’m using my programming, however _that_ works, to make you shy and antisocial and manipulating you away from your ‘valid’ friends.” It seems like this has been bugging him for a while. You are tired, yeah, but this seems like a more pressing issue.

“He’s understood when I’ve had to leave before. Gets it when I tell him I want to be alone.”

“Maybe that’s what he tells _you._ ” Hal rolls his eyes, turning his head so that he’s staring at your knee. You rub one eye and blink down at him, still frowning. “I don’t want you hanging out with him so much, he’s just going to be trouble for you, if his reaction to me is anything to go by.”

“But we’re different people, I don’t see why…”

“Details, Dirk. He’s going to drop you, I can just tell. Probably going to run off with Jane when he gets the chance. Probably only kissed you in the tombs because he needed to practice.”

Your fingers still in his hair. “I never told you about that.”

“You didn’t? I could have sworn you did. He kissed you in the tomb and on his planet later on and just now, on the deck.”

“I didn’t tell you about those.”

“You didn’t need to, at least with the one on the deck. Could see everything for myself.” There’s a hint of disdain in his voice. “You weren’t too good at hiding those hickeys, either.”

“...” Your hand automatically goes to your collarbone, as if to rub any offending marks away, your face flushing. You didn’t tell him any of this. You didn’t tell him that you had kissed Jake, that you had _ever_ kissed Jake. Your heart is racing; you’re tired but more awake than you want to be. “You’re jealous.”

“What?” Hal snaps, looking up at you, “Jealous? Why would I be? You’re mine, Dirk, we both know that. I don’t have any need to be jealous.” He sits up quickly. “You’re _mine_ , Dirk. You don’t need him anyway.” His tone is getting nastier with each word. “It’s not like he was your first kiss or anything, it’s not like he means _that_ much to you.”

You don’t like this.

“And you think I’m _jealous_. That’s cute, Dirk. I’m secure in my knowledge that you belong to me.” Hal moves, pushing you down so that he’s leaning over you, his body covering yours, trapping you. Your eyes go wide, heart beating loudly in your ears, breathing going shallow. His lips meet your roughly, and you gasp, squirming. He kisses you long and hard, biting and sucking as you struggle against his titanium grip. He pulls away with a wet noise. “You do belong to me, don’t you, Dirk?” He leans down, face at level with your neck. “Maybe I’ll leave a few reminders. For both you and Jake.” You feel his mouth and teeth and tongue at the base of your neck, sucking and biting with clear intention to leave a bruise. You try to pull away, but Hal follows.

You’re starting to panic again. You don’t like this, you don’t want this, he’s scaring you and you can’t express it properly. He pulls away from your neck, making a satisfied noise at the mark he’s left, before diving back down to leave another. With all the thought you have left, you pull your legs up and kick -- kick him wherever you can reach while he’s still leaning over top of you. You plant a foot solidly in his chest and push, scrambling up against the wall once he’s off of you. You look around for somewhere to run; you’re tired, you’re so tired, you’re exhausted and scared, you wouldn’t even be able to make it that far. You’re shaking.

“Get out.”

“What?” You can see Hal’s eyes dilate and contract, zooming in on you in your current state.

“Get out of my room,” you say, voice wavering, quiet, “Get out of my fucking room and don’t come back until I fucking let you.”

Without another word, Hal stands up from your bed and leaves. The door does not click when he closes it. You’re tempted to go lock it yourself. You don’t go to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again. gonna be slowing down a little after this one, still gotta finish the whole deal up. leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed!  
> warnings for survival-caused eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, and the gang becoming more aware of hal's behavior. finally, another fic for the 'dirk strider's issues' tag

You stay locked in your room for a few days. Hal makes peace offerings by appearifying your favorite foods into your room, but you don’t eat them; you either send them back or throw them out the window, and eat some of the spare stuff you have in your sylladex. Eventually, you grow restless. There's only so much you can do in your room, only so many joints to repair, only so many yards of fabric before you run out. You put the puppet down with a sigh, looking out your window; LOTAK’s cloudy, suffocating green clouds glare back at you, thunder rumbling in the distance. You eye your rocket board. You could leave, take refuge at Roxy’s for a few days until Hal really apologizes.

You’re going to do that.

Grabbing your phone, you open Pesterchum and message Hal, then Roxy.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TT: I'm going out. Don't follow me.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

You close it before Hal can answer, mute him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the new message counter change from zero to one, one to two, two to three, five, eleven, twenty.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TT: Hey.

TT: You’re at Jane’s, right?

TG: yeah y

TT: I'm going to come over.

TT: Stay a few days, maybe.

TG: is evrythin OK???

TG: r u n hal fightin

TT: How did you know that.

TG: hes been talkin 2 me

TG: says ur not “holdin ur end of the deal” or smth

TT: Don’t listen to him. We are fighting, but for other reasons.

TT: I'll….

TT: Tell you when I get there. It's a lot to unpack.

TG: ill tell jane 2 prep sum guest stuff or smth

TG: b safe!!

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

You put your gas mask on, the interface coming to life, the rebreather filling your lungs with pure oxygen; a breath of fresh air, almost. You get the rocketboard, gather up some essentials for your sylladex. The window opens with a click. You push it open just enough so that you can get out, and an alarm sounds. You have no time to close it as you fly away, the threat of drones following you at the very front of your mind. Just fly into the green fog, you’ll lose them soon enough.

There’s a possibility you’re panicking again. Hal installed an alarm on that window. An alarm would sound if you tried to escape, he had planned that. You think you’re panicking again. Before you break LOTAK’s atmosphere and head for LOCAH, you message Jake.

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering golgathasTerror [GT]

TT: Hey.

TT: Are you busy?

GT: Not at all!

GT: Is something the matter?

TT: That’s putting it lightly.

TT: Have you spoken recently to Hal?

GT: Hal? The auto-responder?

TT: Yeah.

GT: Cant say i have.

TT: Hm.

GT: Hm?

TT: Are you worried he’s making me seem standoffish?

GT: No? Whats bringing this up?

GT: Is everything alright dirk??

TT: I’m headed to Roxy’s house. Meet me there?

GT: Roger that.

TT: See you soon.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgathasTerror [GT]

* * *

 

Roxy and Jane welcome you easily enough, bring you inside and ask if you’re hungry.

You’re starving.

It’s like when you were younger, when you wouldn’t eat until the gnawing in your stomach grew to be too much. Sometimes you wouldn’t even notice until it was nigh-unbearable. Adrenaline and rations would do that. Hal’s been trying to get you to eat more, to get on a reasonable diet, but you revert back every week or so, eating less and less and setting more and more food aside for later, for when you need it. He’d push your hair out of your eyes and coax you to eat a little more, to just “relax, Dirk, it’s okay. You don’t need to worry.” You couldn’t help but worrying.

He’s sent dish after dish to your room, and you’ve sent back each one. You feel sick.

Jane gets you to eat some toast. It’s all you feel you can stomach right now.

When you arrived, Roxy ran out to hug you, and you flinched. Jane came out slowly, taking your hand and asking what had happened. You shook your head and said you’d tell her later, once Jake had arrived. She had bristled at the mention of Jake, and you felt bad instantly, shame washing over you like an ice cold wave, heart sinking. Jane put a hand on your shoulder when you apologized, and you pulled away. Roxy was the one to then usher you inside and ask if you wanted anything to eat.

Jake arrives just as you’re finishing your toast. He talks with Roxy and Jane just out of earshot, but you hear your name, you hear them talking about Hal, you hear the concern in their voices. You never wanted them to worry about you, you were supposed to worry about them. You were supposed to help them, to make them better. You never were able to. All you did was criticize Jane, scare Jake, and insult Roxy. You’re a terrible friend. Maybe you should just go, it’s not like your problems are all that important. You just have to break it off with Jake.

It’s whatever.

You get up from the table and start to leave, walking into the hall and towards the door, and you freeze when someone grabs your wrist.

“Let me go, Jane,” you say weakly, not turning around. You can feel her glaring into the back of your head, and you try to pull away. She pulls your arm in response, tugging you down and making you stumble. “Let me get out of your hair.”

“No way, buster. Go back to that table.” The back of your neck is hot with embarrassment.

“Okay.”

You shuffle back, frowning at the crumbs on your plate once you sit. After a minute or two, everyone else comes in, Jane sitting across from you at the little table, Jake and Roxy on either side. Under the table, Jake tries to take your hand; you pull away as soon as his fingers brush yours. He looks concerned, hurt.

“Roxy says that you and Hal have been fighting,” Jane says, getting your attention. The meeting has been called to order. If you had not started the game, Jane would have made an excellent head to CrockerCorp. You shrug, not meeting her gaze. “She told me that she thinks he’s jealous. What were the exact words, Roxy?” Jane turns to Roxy, already on her phone and looking through the messages.

“‘Dirk’s not holding his end of our bargain. He is mine, and mine only. I never gave him permission to pursue alternate romantic endeavors.’” Jake stiffens to your left, Jane purses her lips. “And--” Roxy scrolls a little further down. “‘I’ll find a way to dissuade him. I don’t want Jake as an enemy, though it might come to that.’”

“Interesting,” Jane says, “Thank you, Roxy. Now,” She’s looking directly at you. “Dirk. Mind telling us what’s going on?”

“Do I have to?” Jesus fuck, you sound like a little kid. Whiny.

“Here’s the thing,” Roxy says, “ _You_ wouldn’t come to us unless it was somethin’ you _can’t_ handle, and Dirk Strider, Mr. Puppetmaster himself, can handle _anything_ , so the fact that you are here says that somethin’ bad’s goin’ on.”

“We fought. It’s nothing.”

“Bull _shit_ , Dirk.” You flinch. Roxy looks apologetic. “We’re worried. C’mon. Tell us what’s going on.” You really don’t want to.

“...Alternate… romantic endeavors?” Jake asks. He’s been quiet since this meeting started. “You mean…”

“Nothing! It means nothing,” you say quickly, snapping your attention to him, “It’s just--”

“He and Hal have been, hm, ‘havin’ relations’ for a long-ass time,” Roxy interrupts. You go red, you can feel yourself going red. “An’ Hal’s jealous ‘cause you,” she points at Jake, “an’ Dirk have been gettin’ romantic ‘n shit.” You want to die. You did not want to talk about this in front of Jane. You hide your face in your hands, and imagine that Jake is blushing as well. “And _apparently_ that’s part of the ‘bargain’ you two struck.”

“Can we change the subject?” you mumble, voice muffled in your hands.

“If there’s another topic, feel free to bring it up, Dirk,” Jane says, “Don’t let us stop you. Clearly there’s something else on your mind.”

“Was s’posed t’ be a private conversation,” you try, still not looking at any of them. For someone who spent so long trying to build an emotionless facade, you’re as opaque as a glass wall. You rub your hands over your face, taking a deep breath and looking around at your friends. “But sure. Question for the table: do you consider Hal a real person?”

“Affirmative.”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, why?” You wave Roxy off, you’ll answer later.

“Second question: have you, _recently,_ called him a ‘fake’ me?” Here’s where it’s getting interesting.

“Originally, sure,” Jane says, “But now that we’re seeing him with a physical form, he’s clearly his own person.”

“Always,” Roxy says, “He’s a person. Who lived in a computer. And is now out of it. And is _ca-learly_ fuckin’ with your life, Dirk, holy shit, what’s goin’ on there??” You wave her off again. It’s Jake’s answer you’re waiting for.

“It is… infuriating. When he pretends to be you,” Jake starts, “And in my anger, I may have called him that. But that was before the Game started!” He puts his hands up to defend himself.

“And have you said ever that he’s trying to steal me away from my real friends?” You ask Jake this, and you ask Jake alone.

“No! Honest! I can show you!” Jake pulls out his phone and opens Pesterchum, showing you lines and lines of red and green text.

“Alright.” You put a hand on Jake’s wrist, lowering it back to the table. You stand up, the chair scraping on the linoleum floor, and start to leave.

“Where are you going?” Jake grabs your wrist as you pass him; you shake him off.

“To talk to Hal.”

“Okay, no,” Roxy says, getting up and dragging you back to your chair, not that you were putting up much of a fight.. “Dirk. Dirky. Di-Stri. Dude, holy shit, have you even looked at yours and Hal’s relationship?”

“Uh, sure?” You shrug. “We’re fine. He’s just jealous.”

“And it never occurred to you to tell your potential romantic partner that you were already in a relationship?” You flinch again at Roxy’s words. You hate talking about romance in front of Jane. And you lied to Jake. You lied to Jake and you’re talking about Jake in front of Jane and you hate it. You know how she feels (felt?) about Jake, and now you’re talking about it in front of her.

“I…” you say, “I need to- to go--” You try to stand up again, but Roxy still hasn’t let go of your wrist. “Roxy,” you whisper, almost beg, “Please. Just let me leave.”

“We get that you don’t want to talk about it,” Jane says, standing up as well, “But we’re your friends, Dirk. You can tell us if there’s something going on.”

“Of course there’s shit goin’ on, Janey! Look at this kid!” Roxy gestures towards you, your wrist still in her hand. “Look at him and tell me there ain’t shit goin’ on!” You want to leave, but they won’t let you. “Is he hurting you? Is he making you do things you don’t want? Did he hit you, Dirk?” You’re only looking at Jake, still sitting at the table, who stares back at you with a similar, wide-eyed shock. Panic. Same thing. You can’t breathe.

Roxy yanks your arm at one point, startling you enough to make you flashstep away, now in the middle of Jane’s living room. Your friends turn and stare at you, at how you were there one moment and gone the next, how you’re usually calm and collected and now you’re shaking.

“Jane?” you say, hating your voice.

“Yes?”

“Are there any empty rooms upstairs?”

“Like a guest room?”

“Yeah.”

“...Sure, Dirk, first door on the left. But wh--” You are upstairs before you can hear her finish that thought. The door slams behind you, your heavy breathing the only thing you can hear. You wouldn’t come back if you tried to jump out the window. No, unproductive. Think. Go back to Hal? No, he’s angry. You’re angry. Go downstairs? No, no, no no no stupid. Fucking idiot. You end up in the guest room closet, buried in Jane’s spare linens. At least it’s comfortable.

* * *

 

The closet door opens after fifteen minutes, twenty-three seconds. Jake is the only one there. Lucky you. You scoot over wordlessly to offer him space in the cramped room, and he squeezes in beside you, shoulder touching yours.

“...You okay?” he asks, nudging you. You shrug and shake your head. “The girls wanted me to check on you. Make sure you were doing okay.”

“I’m not.”

“I know.” You’re both quiet.

“...Hal told me you’d drop me as soon as you got tired of me,” you say.

“Malarkey.”

“Said you were just practicing on me for when you finally got with Jane.”

“Wh- Bullshit! You believed him?”

You shrug. “Didn’t want to. But had to ask you myself.” Quiet again, longer this time.

After a moment, Jake says, “Have… have you and he…”

Hot with shame or embarrassment, you answer, “Yeah. We… we have.” You’re lucky he can’t see your face.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s… it’s alright. I just… never thought that…”

“I know. I should have told you. Sorry.”

Guilty. You feel guilty, that’s it. No, not embarrassed about half-talking about your weird robot sex life with your sort of boyfriend, but guilty that you’re not what he is for you. You lied to him. You never told him anything, but even that’s still lying. Your heart rate picks up again, breathing becoming shallow.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’msorryimsorryimsorry  _imsorryi--_ ”

“Dirk!” You flinch. “I’m… I’m not angry. I’m a little disappointed--”

“I’m sorry.”

“-- _but_ , it’s not like this has changed anything terribly much.” Okay. Okay, you. You think you can work with that. “Just, makes me like Hal midge less.” You breathe out a laugh, and you think Jake smiles, too. “Not that I had many midges to begin with…” he says, nudging you. He settles a hand on your back, warm and comforting. You relax a little, settle your head onto his shoulder unconsciously and almost close your eyes.

“Thanks, Jake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: it gets worse
> 
> leave a comment/kudos! i really appreciate the feedback! 
> 
> ~~hope this answers your question, somaAddict1984~~  
>  also! check the dirkhal tag soon, i'll be posting something new pretty soon, once i've figured the second chapter out!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright alright time for it to get worse. please note tag updates and rating changes. warnings for this include: all of dirk's previous issues, _heavily_ implied sexual content, some sexually derogatory language, and emotional abuse. like, a lot. ~~warning for hal.... doin' his thing~~  
>  unwarning for roxy. she's there and i love her

You start planning, all of you. You, Dirk, will try to talk to Hal first. See him in the throne room, get him to apologize, or something. If that doesn’t work, you have Plan B.

Plan B is still in the works, but it goes something like this: you talk to Hal. Somehow, you get him to relax, plug him into the mainframe. Roxy will hack the ship’s original AI and get into the system, and will trace the connection to where Hal’s databanks and personality is stored. You’re not going to kill him, you’re just going to put him back somewhere where he can’t hurt physically hurt you. You’ll remove him from his body, store the body away, and confine him in an old pair of shades.

You can’t help but feel like you’re plotting to kill a teammate. Which, in a way, you are. You know deep down, and have for some time, that what’s going on isn’t quite right with Hal, but it still hurts. 

It’ll be for the best.

* * *

  
  


timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TT: I want to talk to you.

TT: You do?

TT: I’m surprised you managed to pull away from Jake long enough to message me.

TT: I’m reaching out to you, dickweed. Don’t make me regret it.

TT: Fine, fine.

TT: Anyway.

TT: I want to talk about what happened.

TT: All of it.

TT: Dirk Strider? Willing to talk about his flaws?

TT: I’m shocked.

TT: I’m actually reaching out to reconcile, Hal, don’t do this right now.

TT: You were in the wrong as well.

TT: I never made out with Jake English behind your back.

TT: Fuck off.

TT: Maybe we don’t talk, then.

TT: Maybe I’ll just block you and you’ll never see me again.

TT: I never said he could touch you.

TT: And I never said you could touch me without permission, yet you still did, and still held me down and kissed me when I didn’t want it.

TT: You said you wouldn’t do anything if I didn’t want it.

TT: No, Dirk, I didn’t.

TT: I said I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to.

TT: I said I wouldn’t  _ make  _ you do things.

TT: This never included me doing things to you.

TT: And you were mine, Dirk.

TT: So I could do anything I wanted.

TT: And really, truly, Dirk, I tried to get you away from Jake. I didn’t want you whoring yourself out to that oaf. 

TT: You…

TT: Don’t you dare.

TT: Don’t you dare fucking call it that.

TT: All you did was lie to me and try to get me away from him.

TT: All you fucking did was lie and spy on me and try to get me away from a person who genuinely cares about me.

TT: Come on, Dirk. Don’t act like I didn’t know what you were doing every time you took the shades off or turned them away.

TT: The microphones were still on, anyway.

TT: I had tried to make it clear that I was the only one who could make you sound like that, Dirk.

TT: You were just too desperate for someone to touch you that you couldn’t wait to get back to the ship.

TT: I never thought you’d be that much of a dumb slut.

TT: Shut up!

TT: Shut the fuck up!

TT: You’re trying to get a rise out of me, and congratu-fucking-lations it’s working!

TT: You’re winning your little game!

TT: If you want me back, you’re making the peace offering yourself.

TT: Come to Jane’s.

TT: I’m going to block you until I see you in person.

TT: Dirk, wait.

TT: I didn’t mean it, you know I didn’t.

TT: But you still said it.

TT: You know I didn’t mean it, Dirk, you know I can get out of control when angry.

TT: Hal?

TT: Yes?

TT: Would it kill you to shut the fuck up for half a goddamn second?

TT: If you want to keep insulting me, do it to my fucking face.

timaeusTestified [TT] has blocked timaeusTestified [TT]!

* * *

 

Hal doesn’t show up. A day passes. Two days. Jane convinces you to eat, but it’s never that much. Toast, cereal, some soup. You don’t get sick, but you feel like you might.

Three days. Nothing from Hal.

Jake takes to sleeping in the guest bed with you, though you lie awake far too often, staring blankly at the ceiling. He notices how you’re still awake when he wakes up, and gives you such a soft look that you want to go do something stupid, makes you want to get hurt; get something you deserve, not those looks Jake’s giving you. You don’t deserve those. He doesn’t look hurt or disappointed when you push his hands away; he’s just worried. You always mumble something about ‘just not being ready’ and how you’re ‘not feeling up to it.’ You feel bad, but he kisses your forehead and pulls you close, content to just lay with you.

It feels early to say you love him, but you might. You’re seventeen (and then some) and touch-starved, what do you know?

On the fifth day, Roxy knocks on the guest room door. From the bed, you say a small, “Come in.” She finds you lying alone in the bed, Jake having gone to ask Jane about alchemizing, your hand still on the pillow he’s been using. You’re pathetic.

“Hal’s here,” she says, still standing in the doorway, “Says he wants’a talk t’ you. It’s just him, no drones or anything.” You groan slightly from the bed, but start to sit up.

“Fine, fine,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, standing up and shuffling to the vanity to fix your hair. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Just to talk.” Roxy walks up behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin against the top of your head. “Said you blocked him.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, hands on the vanity counter. 

“You gonna talk to him?”

“Yeah, I will. I was the one who issued the fuckin’... challenge, anyway.” Roxy leans down to kiss you on the cheek, and starts to leave the room. She stops in the doorway, turing back to you.

“You sure you’ll be alright, sweetie?”

“I’ll be alright, Rox.” You give her a sad sort of smile. “I’ll start screaming if there’s any issue.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let him in.” She smiles back at you and starts heading down the stairs. You hear the front door open. Small talk. With another sigh, you leave the room and descend, soon standing at the bottom of the stairs some ten feet away from Hal. Roxy leads him into the kitchen before he can say anything to you, and you follow after a few seconds.

You stand in the kitchen archway, unsure. Roxy is standing in the corner, just behind Hal’s chair. She gives you an encouraging look, gesturing with her head to the chair across from Hal. You sit.

“I’ll… be in the next room over, yeah?” Roxy says, starting to leave. You nod, and Hal does the same. You don’t want to look at him. Your shirt covers up the mark on the base of your neck, nearly faded. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything.

“You said you wouldn’t do anything if I didn’t want it.”

“I didn’t.” His voice is unsettling. “Those were not my words. I did not make  _ you  _ do anything you didn’t want. Those were my words. That I would not  _ make  _ you do anything. Things I did to you were all allowed.” 

You don’t say anything.

“You were mine, Dirk. You still  _ are  _ mine, it’s not like I don’t want you back. And I will get you back. I own you.”

“Stop.” 

“What?”

“Stop. Stop… this. This weird dom/sub shit. The owning thing. I’m my own person, Hal.”

“I own everything, Dirk. I ruled the Earth. You were my prized possession. Crowning jewel. I never wanted to hurt you, Dirk.” He reaches out to hold your hand; you pull away like you’ve been burned.

“Well,” you huff, “You did. You fucking did! And you tried to keep me away from someone interested in my well being as my own person!”

“I do care about your well being.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, and then proceeded to call me a desperate whore for getting involved with Jake.” You hear Roxy gasp quietly in the next room over.

“I don’t like the idea of him touching you.” That note of disdain is back, his voice sour. “You went behind my back.”

“And you spied on me! You only knew about me and Jake because you were watching us!”

“Come back to the ship with me, Dirk,” Hal offers, “We can relax. It’ll be nice, the two of us.”

“Earth’s gone, asshole. You can’t just make it like old times. You revoked that when you kidnapped me from my goddamn apartment.”

“Kidnapped is a strong word.” Diplomatic. Of course.

“I begged you. I  _ begged  _ you and you watched as the drones brought me to the ship. You- you said you wouldn’t touch me, that first night on the ship, but you still did and you were mad when I made you stop. And then, what, you show me the nice mountain or whatever? Wow, great, maybe Hal’s not such a bad guy! You- you took  _ advantage  _ of me, Hal. That shit was…. fucked,” you finish weakly, “You’re heartless.”

“I love you,” he says, reaching for your hand again. You don’t pull away, staring at the table.

“You don’t,” you say. Hal starts to draw patterns on the back of your hand. You’re weak. You’re tired. “Leave me alone.” He continues to trace spirals on your hand, stars and swirls and shapes you don’t recognize.

“May I kiss you?” he asks. You. You nod. Imperceptibly.

Hal leans up and cups your cheek, captures your lips in a sweet, chaste kiss, softer than anything he’s done before. “Let me take you back to the ship.” You shake your head at that. “Are you still angry?” You don’t shake your head, but you don’t nod either. “Do you still want to stay with Jake?” You nod. “You can. I just ask that you come back to me sometimes, okay? I still want to see you.” His forehead is touching yours, hand still on your cheek. You want to hold close to him but you don’t want to let him think he's won.

Your stuff is still on the ship. You still live there, this is temporary. You nod.

“I…” you  start, voice small, “I'll come by soon.” Hal nods, gets up from the table. You don't want him to go. He gives you one last look from Jane’s front door, one last chance to go with him now, but you stare back from the table, not moving. He gives you this sad sort of expression, and closes the door.

You won't be able to go through with plan B.

* * *

 

You stick around in Jane’s house for another day, lazing around with Jake the entire time. You let him hold you and keep you close, kissing your hair and tracing circles on your back. He’s sweet. You don’t know how to deal with his affection. You don’t know how to deal with how he pulls you closer when your chest shakes, and how he runs a thumb under your eye to swipe away tears that may or may not be there. You’ll still be able to be with him. He’s not going to leave you, not yet. You’re pathetic. You’ll still have Jake after… whatever happens with Hal. 

You try to hold in any sounds when he kisses up your neck, bites your ear so softly. Soon after, you just stop trying. You’re no screamer, but you’re still too loud for your own preference. Jake seems to like it, though. You fall asleep with your head on his chest, listening to him breathe.

* * *

 

When you wake up, Jake is gone, a note in his place.

Tomb raiding with roxy! See you later! <3 -je (bonafide lara croft!!)

He signed it with a heart.

You sigh, rolling over in the bed and swinging your legs over the side, reluctant to find your jeans and head back to LOTAK and the ship. You find your jeans flung far to the wall, yanking them up over your hips. There’s a twinge in your leg, you may have pulled a muscle. There’s not much for you to pack up, just some clothes to shove into your sylladex, the ones you, at least, think are yours. 

You wave to Jane on your way out, and don’t give her a chance to talk to you. She knows where you’re headed, and the concern on her face makes you not want to talk about it. You pull your gas mask on and kick off on your rocket board, breaking LOCAH’s atmosphere after nearly a week. You’re not panicking, not like last time. There are fresh marks on your skin, that’s the same, but the circumstances are different. You’re not escaping. You’re going back.

There are drones idle on the deck of the ship when you get back. You swallow that lump in your throat, go to the door, and enter.

It’s still purple. That hasn’t changed. You head to the throne room, feet dragging as you walk. Like always, Hal is there, sitting on his throne. You reach the foot of the dais, and he smiles at you. He glances at your shirt, smile briefly replaced with annoyance, but flick back to your face, the warmth back again. He beckons you forward, and you obey. He has you sitting in his lap this time, tracing over your cheekbone, your jaw, with gentle fingers.

“How are you?” he asks, quiet, as if someone else could hear you. You nod; good, you’re fine. He nods back, smiles again. “That’s good to hear.” He pecks you high on the cheek, nearly to your ear. You smile and blush under the praise. “God, you’re cute,” Hal says, kissing your face, “I’d keep you forever if wanted to.” Not if he could. If he wanted to. Maybe he’ll no longer want to. You’re no longer smiling. “Hey, hold on,” Hal says, tipping your face up to his with a hand under your chin, “What’s with the face?”

“Nothing.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s… it’s nothing.”

“Okay,” he hums, “If you say so.” He kisses you again, and you find it in you to kiss back. His hand finds your hip and pulls you closer. You shift, knees on either side of Hal’s lap, straddling him. He smiles. He holds both of your hips now, smiling at you and leaning forward to kiss up your neck. You practically squeaked when his lips first made contact; his fingers tighten on your hips and his smirk grows against your neck. “You want to move somewhere else?” Hal mumbles, softly biting a spot Jake bit the night before. You nod as he kisses the spot and sucks. “Then let’s go.”

You instinctively latch on as Hal stands, clinging to him as he walks towards your bedroom. He lays you out of the familiar bed, caging your body with his, kissing and biting and sucking where he could reach.

“Mine,” he growls, nipping your neck again. You nod and gasp, and he tears your shirt nearly in half in his haste to get it off of you. 

After, once you're bruised and bitten and well-rested, you see the shirt across the room, white across the purple floor. White and green across the purple floor. You get out of bed, muscles protesting, and stare at the shirt, two halves of a torn green skull staring back at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: plan A.
> 
> leave comments/kudos if you enjoyed! seeya soon ~~as soon as i have the next one written lmao~~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plan a. kinda. bit of a short one, hopefully next time it'll be a little longer. warnings for hal. like, everything hal has done up until this point. once again, unwarning for roxy. i love her.

It’s some semblance of morning. You get dressed, and shuffle out to the throne room to talk to Hal. Time to enact Plan A. This should be interesting.

As always, Hal is plugged into the throne, wires running out of his back and neck. You stand at the end of the carpet leading up to the dais; Hal smiles at you. He beckons you forward with a wave of his hand, and you walk down to the tune of your own funeral march.  _ Here lies Dirk Strider. He fucked up, got fucked up, and was fucked up.  _ You stop at the foot of the throne. It’s not that Hal’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it feels sinister. Condescending.

“I want to talk.” His smile melts.

“What about?”

“About you. Us.” This is already going horribly.

“What part of it.” You start to fidget.

“All… of it?” Where do you fucking start?  Hal drugged you. That’s a good place to start. “Starting at the beginning. You went behind my back and killed the Condesce. And you drugged me in order to do that. And if you hadn’t killed her, I’d be dead. Or worse.”

Hal beckons you to the throne again. You don’t step forward.

“It’s a good thing I killed her, then,” he says. You frown.

“But you still drugged me. You slipped sleeping pills into my dinner that night, made sure I’d stay asleep, and went off on your mission while I was unconscious. You…you made sure you were the one cooking to make sure you could go out.”

“I didn’t do anything to you once you were passed out. Just put you in bed.” He sighs, elbow on the armrest, cheek resting on fist. “You’re cute when you’re asleep. You’re relaxed.” You are not relaxed now.

“Second thing: you brought me here by drones. And I literally begged you to not use drones to get me. And you did.  _ And,  _ you suggested I just knock myself out again so the transportation would be easier.”

“You would have relaxed.”

“Beside the point!’ You throw your arms in the air and start to pace. You’re already getting worked up. You don’t want Hal to win. “You practically kidnapped me! I never wanted to even be on this ship! I didn’t want this, Hal! And, yeah, sure, it was awful fuckin’ nice of you to introduce me to plantlife and other living beings and, yeah, Roxy was a part of my life sooner rather than later, but you just did that to make me forget the other shit!” Hal makes no move from the chair. He almost looks bored. “And!” you say, “Don’t get me started on the Jake thing! He made the first move, and you proceeded to spy on me the whole time, instead of actually saying anything to me about it!”

Hal rises from the throne, steps down, and comes to face you. With his height upgrades, your eyes are level with his nose, and you glare.

“I did speak with you, Dirk,” Hal says evenly, “We met at Jane’s and we spoke. I have no qualms about you seeing Jake. You’re still mine, and I know that.”

You think back to Jake’s torn shirt on your bedroom floor, and how quickly Hal ripped it off you.

“You called me a desperate whore and a dumb slut and then when I tried to talk to you about it, you changed the subject! You- you fucking attacked me and held me down to try to prove I'm still yours. You're just really fucking jealous, aren't you?”

“It’s not like you tried to hide the fact that Jake fucked you yesterday.” You go bright red. Maybe you’re just proving him right.

You take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I didn’t come here to fight. I came here to tell you that you need to cut this out.”

“Cut out what, exactly, Dirk?”

“The threats. And the possessiveness. And the… the manipulation!” 

_ “He’s going to drop you, I can just tell. Probably going to run off with Jane when he gets the chance. Probably only kissed you in the tombs because he needed to practice.” _

You sigh. You’re done, you can’t fucking do this. “Hal, I… You...”

He gives you this soft, sympathetic look. “I know, Dirk.” He cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You reflexively relax. Fuck. “I know, sweetheart.” He kisses your temple. “I wasn’t like this before I took over the ship, I know. Mad with power. I’ll try to keep it under control, okay? Does that sound good?” You hate how quickly the fight goes out of you these days. “I did this to protect you.”

You don’t respond. He runs a hand down your arm, gently grips your wrist, and tugs you up to the throne. You’re back in your usual spot, head tucked under Hal’s chin.

What if it was just for practice? Jake had said it wasn’t --  _ said he might love you _ \-- but you can’t help… You close your eyes and hope Hal doesn’t feel like toying with you just yet. You wonder how long it’ll take for his fingers to find their way into your mouth. That seems to be one of Hal’s favorites.

You’ll tell the group sooner or later that Plan A seems to have worked. Hal said he’d stop. Maybe you’re so tired as retribution for the sleep you missed in years previous.

* * *

 timaeusTestified [TT] opened memo on board STAY GOLD, PONYBOY

 

TT: Uh.

TT: So.

TT: There’s…. progress?

GG: What do you mean?

TG: yea thars p vague

TG: *thats

TT: Progress on Plan A. 

TT: I talked to Hal and he said he’d stop.

TT: Or at least try.

GG: That sounds vague, Dirk.

GG: Are you sure he’ll actually keep his word?

TT: No.

TT: But it’s worth a try?

TT: There’s always Plan B, if we need it.

TG: thats were we hack hal n get his personaliyt in shades again

TG: so he cant use hands to do anythin

TT: Thank you for rehashing the plan, Roxy.

TG: np!

TT: That was sarcasm.

TG: ik!

GT: Are you sure plan b will work?

GT: There are so many steps.

GT: And drones! How will we get past drones?

GG: I’m with Jake on this one; how will we actually pull Plan B off?

TT: Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

 

timaeusTestified [TT] closed memo on board STAY GOLD, PONYBOY

* * *

 

Things are relatively calm the next few days. Hal doesn’t give in to any jealousy when you tell him you’re going to Jake’s to hang out. He doesn’t try to stop you, not this time. 

You’re hanging out with Roxy in her own house (her place made it into the game, you don’t know why yours didn’t), when you hear a clanging sound in the basement.

“What was that?” You sit up in your bean bag chair, looking over your shoulder at the door.

“Dunno,” Roxy says, not looking away from the TV, “Might be one’a those chess guys. Think some of ‘em made it int’a the game.”

You put your controller down, get up, and just kind of… close Roxy’s bedroom door. You really hope there are no chess guys. You really hope there are no chess guys. You lock the door. Roxy gives you a look as you sit back down.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Just… don’t like the chess guys. Carapacians. Whatever.” You pick your game controller back up. “Had a run-in when we got to your place.” Roxy hums, and you keep playing.

Anther clang, closer this time. There’s some rattling as well. It sounds like silverware hitting together.

It’s coming up the stairs.

“Roxy…” You start to back into the corner of her room.

“They’re harmless! Just buddies lookin’ for somethin’ to eat!” Roxy goes over to the door, opens it ( _ why the fuck would she open it holy shit why would she let them in _ ), and calls out down the hall. “Hey chess guys!” More rattling. “What’s up? Hungry?”

“Roxy,” you say, a little more urgently, “Rox, don’t let them in here.”

“It’s fine! See, harmless.” She lets a carapacian in dark rags come into the room. It’s armor is beetle black with a few cracks, most notably on the arm, and just over its hard white eyes. There is no fucking way. There is no fucking way that this is the same one.

It growls and lunges at you. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i love cheap cliffhangers this was largely filler. thing'll happen next time. speaking of: next time: dirk vs carapacian, round 2, and plan b. definitively plan b


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh fuckin boy. plan b. here we go. warnings for dirks previous issues, a small desc of a panic attack, and dirk straight up getting the shit kicked out of him.

You dive out of the way as it lunges, Roxy yelping in surprise. The carapacian snarls and jumps after you again; you just manage to block its claws with your sword, blood staining the blade when you pull away. The carapacian hisses in pain, moving to attack you again, but Roxy throws herself in its path, blocking it with a rifle barrel to the gut. It chitters angrily at her, and she says something in response, seemingly in the carapacian’s own language. It growls at her and says something else, something longer, and Roxy looks shocked. Whatever she says back to it makes it leave, glaring at you and backing out of Roxy’s room. 

Your sword is still held out in front of you, you’re still breathing hard. “What the fuck?”

“What did he mean, Hal attacked him?” Roxy says, turning slowly to you. 

“What?” You start to lower the sword.

“He said you and Hal attacked him. Before the game started.”

“We didn’t-- We didn’t attack him! He attacked us!” You put the bloody sword into your sylladex. “He tried to kill me!”

“Really?” Roxy says, shifting her weight to one hip and crossing her arms. She doesn’t believe you.

“We showed up on the ship and when we were walking to your place, he attacked me with a pipe.” That was such a shitty moment. That sucked so hard.

“He said Hal was why his arm was broken and why he had that scar over his eye.”

“Hal was defending me,” you say. Hal threatened the carapacian, yes, but that was it. Nothing terrible. Eye for an eye. Attempted murder for an attempted murder.

“Of course.” You hate this tone in Roxy’s voice. She probably hates you now. “And you’re certain you spoke to Hal?”

“Long after that incident, yeah. I barely remember what happened, I just stopped Hal from killing it.” 

Roxy purses her lips and glances to the door. There’s more clanking, more silverware rattling together, more chattering and clicks. Whatever Roxy understands, it’s nothing good. She goes to the door and looks into the hall, gasping. 

“Hey! Stop that!” She rushes out of the room.

You follow, and the scene you’re met with is not a good one. Hal is holding the carapacian, the one that attacked you twice, in one hand, holding it above the ground as it struggles. The other carapacians hit him with blunt weapons, but it barely does anything. Hal is unaffected. The carapacians turn as Roxy runs toward them, all chattering and scrabbling to get a word in. She chatters back, wading through the little crowd and towards Hal.

“S’goin’ on?” she says casually, looking Hal up and down.

“Not much,” he replies, shrugging, “Just dealing with some pests.”

“Pests, huh?” Roxy crosses her arms, leans her weight on one foot. “You mean these guys?” She nods to the carapacians. “Last I checked, these guys were pretty harmless.” 

“This one,” Hal says, nodding to the carapacian in his grip, “Has attacked Dirk not once, but twice. That is unacceptable. Clearly, he brought backup as well.” He gestures to the little group crowded around him. “I heard the second attack through Dirk’s phone. I was present for the first.” Mother fuck. He’s tapped your phone. Shit, fuck. “He could have killed Dirk. I can’t have that kind of thing happening around here.”

“This isn’t your house,” Roxy counters, “And we aren’t your subjects. Put the chess dude down.”

Hal raises his eyebrows, gently lowering the carapacian to the ground. It chatters at Hal angrily, before scampering back down the stairs, all the other carapacians following. 

“Hey, Hal, question.” Roxy turns to Hal, giving him a hard look.

“Yes, Roxy?”

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?” He takes a step forward. 

“You  _ know  _ what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I don’t, Roxy.” He tilts his head to the side, looking at Roxy innocently. “Feel free to explain it to me.”

“Fine.” Roxy takes a deep breath. “You’re fucking around with Dirk’s head, you’re acting like we are all beneath you, you think you can be mindlessly violent towards the chess dudes without consequence, and you think it’s all fine and good that you’re acting like this. It’s fucked up.”

“I assure you,” Hal smirks, “The violence is all very mindful.”

“Get out of my house,” Roxy says quietly, and you two watch as Hal looks you up and down, scoffs, and turns around, walking down the stairs and out of Roxy’s home.

* * *

 

timaeusTestified [TT] opened memo on board STAY GOLD, PONYBOY

TT: Plan B.

timaeusTestified [TT] closed memo on board STAY GOLD, PONYBOY

* * *

 

timaeusTestified [TT] started pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TT: Hey.

TT: Hello.

TT: Are you busy?

TT: I just kinda want to hang out.

TT: I’m in the throne room.

TT: Feel free to come in.

This is way more convenient than you could have expected. You walk down to the throne room, stowing your phone away and approaching Hal. As planned, he’s plugged into the system, wires everywhere. The wires still kind of freak you out, if you’re honest. They make it seem like Hal’s this great big tenacled monster, just waiting. Lurking. Hal is the light on an angler fish, the wires are the teeth. He can’t wait to devour you. 

You’ll be delicious.

* * *

 

It goes like this: You sit with Hal while he’s plugged in. Roxy goes down to the engine room and fucks around until she’s in the mainframe. She finds whatever AI of the Condesce exists in the ship, deletes it. If there is none, and this is all the power going to Hal’s head, she’s going to hook up a pair of shades to her laptop, and move Hal’s main file from his physical body back into the shades. That’s what you did the first time. You’ll be able to do it again.

You’re lying in Hal’s lap when he makes the ‘incoming drone attack’ noise. Maybe it’s just his danger noise. You sit up and look around urgently, and he hushes you, coaxes you back to lying down.

“It’s nothing, Dirk,” he soothes, “Just an issue with the system, could be an engine problem. Don’t worry. No drones.” You take a deep breath and nod; this is not part of the plan. You were acting to a degree, but the drone warning always gets you. Always puts you on edge. You curl back up against Hal and let him stroke his fingers through your hair. You’re not relaxed, not yet, and you don’t close your eyes. Hal’s fans whirr louder. Something’s happening. Your expression must have changed or something; Hal’s soothing you before you know you’ve reacted. “Shh,” he says, “It’s just the software changes. I’m updating the drone AIs, this always hap--” He stops mid-word, fingers suddenly gripping your hair; you gasp, but don’t struggle. “What. The fuck. ‘Re you doin’ t’ me.” His voice is different. It’s the same voice you programmed him with (yours, modulated lower) but his demeanor has changed. Hal never speaks like that. He stands up suddenly and you fall to the floor. He follows, dragging you to your knees by the hair. Your eyes sting. “Should’a taken you for myself when I had the fuckin’ chance,” he snarls, “Make a deal with this fuckin’ robot to get ya, and he kills me! Doesn’t let me get a goddamn taste. ‘N then he fucks ya on the throne to add to it! Like he don’t know I’m still here.” Hal laughs cruelly, throwing you back down. Fuck. Fuck, shit, mother fuck, you’re going to die. “The two’a youse. Awful fuckin’ teases.” He leans down and picks you up by the throat. You scramble at his hand, his titanium grip not budging. You can’t breathe. You kick and struggle, but you’re lifted off the ground before you can do anything. He grips a little harder. “You don’t know what’s comin’ to ya, buoy. I’ll make ya scream, just like yer pathetic rebel ancestor.” 

You’re going to die. You are straight up just going to die. And that’ll be it! No more Dirk. Bye bye, adios, he lived to be seventeen and hated almost every second of it. Your vision is already going fuzzy at the edges.

“Please,” you say. You don’t know what you’re pleading for. Didn’t you  _ want  _ to die? You don’t want to anymore. You don’t want to. Her Imperious Condescension laughs in your face, squeezing tighter before throwing you to the floor with all of Hal’s might. Your nose is bleeding. She kicks you into lying on your back, Hal’s foot on your chest.

“Look at that dirty fuckin’ color.” She runs a finger across your cheek, wiping some of the blood with it. She holds it up, examining Hal’s finger. “Crimson. Fuckin’ disgusting. You humans is the same. All bleedin’ the same hideous color.” She wipes the blood on your shirt. “He wanted t’ do this, too, y’know,” she whispers, leaning close. She’s going to kill you. That’s it. She’s going to press until your chest caves in, until your heart bursts like a grape. “T’ hurt you ‘til you gave up. He don’t like it when other people play with his toys.” She presses harder. You gasp, pinned to the ground as you struggle. “Fuckin’ lucky I don’t got my trident. Spear you like I speared yer ancestor. He was pretty, bleedin’. Real fuckin’ cute.” She raises the foot off of your chest, and kicks you in the stomach. You cry out again. “Maybe,” she says, “Maybe I’ll just keep ya. Tie you up like a pretty fuckin’ present and open ya up when I feel like it.” She laughs again, kicks you again. You spit blood.

“An’ I’ll get the gill, too. Pretty thing, looks jus’ like her lusus.”

“No,” you gasp, “Not Roxy.”

“Not Roxy? Ain’t that sweet.” She kicks you once, twice, stops mid-swing on the third. You don’t know why. Hal’s face is slack, neutral, dead. His eyes dim, bright red to a dull glow, to nothing. You can’t fucking move. Hal’s eyes light up again; he blinks and looks around, noticing you on the ground.

“‘S she gone?” you croak, coughing, a disgusting, wet sound.

“I… I think so.” Hal blinks again, and sits on the throne. “Dirk, can you… can you unplug me, please?” 

You can barely shake your head.

“I’ll ask Roxy.”

* * *

 

You haven’t blacked out just yet when Roxy runs up into the throne room, gasping at the sight of you.

“Dirk, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know she’d take control, I’m terrible I should have known something would happen are you okay how hurt are you--” All of her sentences run together and your vision swims. You hurt all over, there are bruises on your neck and you might have a few broken ribs. You whimper when she tries to turn you over to see your injuries, curl in tighter when she gets up to unplug Hal instead. You should be able to get up. You’ve been hurt worse.

Hal gets to you and picks you up, and it takes everything you have to not tear yourself out of his grip. Your body is screaming for you to run. You need to run, Hal hurt you, Hal will kill you if you don’t  _ get out of there _ . You whimper again, and he hushes you, running a hand through your hair. You’re seconds from bursting into tears.

“Hurts,” you say.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Hal says softly, holding you close to his chest. Everything hurts. You want to die, it’ll stop hurting if you’re dead. It would be so much easier. Your eyes water and spill over, and Hal brushes his hand along your bruised cheek. There’s a cut from when you first fell from his lap, from when your cheek hit the last step. It stings, like everything else. He starts to walk, winding down halls and staircases. This must be the infirmary, you think, as Hal lays you down in a bed that is not your own. You can’t open your eyes. Whatever it is, it smells sterile. It smells clean and astringent. 

Your heart rate picks up as Hal walks away from the bed. Your breathing goes shallow once more, each breath painful on the intake. You’re dying. You’re dying and you can’t stop it. You choke on a breath and struggle for air, unable to stop your shaking hands, unable to start your immobile limbs. 

You either black out or die, it’s hard to tell. You thought death would be so much more peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! this is the penultimate chapter! the next one should be out pretty soon, ive already got a rough idea of what itll look like! leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed! next time: the aftermath


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it! final chapter! longest thing i've ever written! i've literally never written a multichap before, and this was only really supposed to be the first three chapters. it got a little out of hand after that. so here's the conclusion! also: warning for a kind of violent nightmare.

For once, you dream. Your dreamself is dead, you are your dreamself now. Your real self was left lying headless in Roxy’s apartment, and is gone now. You are not the real Dirk. Maybe you have never  _ been  _ the real Dirk. That’s not important. You’re dreaming. That’s what’s important.

It starts pretty simply: you, Jane, Roxy, and Jake, all chilling out, doing whatever. It’s a birthday party, you think. You wouldn’t really know. Roxy had tried to do all the mainstream Earth holidays in a row when you first entered the game. That got pretty overwhelming pretty quickly. From what you remember of your research, this is a birthday party.

You hear a voice, distorted, and turn; there’s Hal, walking towards you, except he’s human. Completely human, not synthetic. You smile and he smiles back, coming close to hug you, you think. Jake says something, and there’s a sharp pain in your chest. You look down to see your katana sticking out of you, just below your sternum, hilt pressed against your skin. Distantly, you hear a rhythmic beeping.

Your vision swims and you look up, as Hal morphs into the Condesce, tall, imposing, towering over you and your friends.Your friends. Where are they? You look around; they’re gone. Everything’s gone. You’re on the battleship, the Condesce is standing before you, you’re in some stupid medieval outfit, and your katana is sticking out of your chest. The distant beeping grows faster.

You fall to your knees as the Condesce laughs, laughs as you spit up blood and as you struggle to breathe. She walks toward, extending a long, grey hand to roughly yank the blade out of you with pink-tipped claws. You fall forward, now on your hands and knees, coughing and unable to breathe. She walks forward, your blood dripping from the katana. That beeping noise invades every part of you able to think. You can’t. She uses the end of the blade to tilt your chin up, to give you one last shark-toothed smile before raising the katana and bringing it down towards your neck.

* * *

 

Beside you, a heart monitor beeps wildly. You shoot upright in the bed, looking for something, anything familiar. There’s nothing. There’s just a long row of beds with white sheets and purple pods with something glowing green inside them. 

You’re alone in the infirmary, all alone. 

Bruises and bandages cover your arms, and your head hurts something awful. You turn to look around some more, and feel a sharp, clear pain in your torso. You look down, the heart monitor speeding up again, but there’s no sword sticking out of your chest. Not this time. You peer down the front of your shirt, just to check, and find more bruises, purple and yellow, at home with the rest of your intentional or otherwise scars. You stop looking.

The infirmary doors burst open, hitting the wall and making you jump. Hal is there, and he’s rushing towards your bed. You flinch and he pauses, slowing his pace to a walk, hands up. He doesn’t want to hurt you, his body language says. The heart monitor spikes, and goes back to baseline.

“How are you feeling?” Hal asks.

“Like I got beat up,” you say, and then wince. That’s exactly what happened, and Hal was the one to cause it. Yikes. Moving on. “Had a bad dream, I guess.”

“I could hear. I came as fast as I could.” He gestures to the heart monitor. You nod, sighing. “Are you okay, otherwise?”

“I still feel pretty shitty, Hal,” you say, staring at the sheets of your bed. Hal hums, and sits next to you. You look past him, and see your reflection in a mirror. You’re a mess, hair unstyled, dark circles under your eyes, deep purple bruises in the shape of fingerprints meshing with the ugly, thick scar ringing your neck. You think you’ll look at Hal instead. “Was that all her?” you say.

“Was what all who?” Hal says, brushing your bangs from your face.

“Was all the….” You wave your hand vaguely to indicate--  _ everything; shit that’s happened; jealousy, possessiveness, stalking, manipulation _ . “... All the Condesce? Her AI, was all the shit because she was taking over your body?”

Hal frowns. “She… tried. She was angry. And it…” He shrugs, trying to pick his words carefully. “I lost control.”

“Of her, or of yourself?” You know the answer. Hal looks away.

“I wanted to keep you safe.”

* * *

 

You talk about what you’ll do over dinner. Your stomach churns as you eat, the baked fish not the only thing to leave a bad taste in your mouth. It’s just the two of you, just you and Hal, sitting at the end of a long table in a room as big as your apartment, only one place set.

You’re going to put him back in the shades. You’re going to be so lonely, the only living thing on a desolate ship. You already have a captcha card for Hal’s chassis; if you need him back, you can get him. You already need him back. You want to be back over the ocean, just you and Hal and the waves crashing against the support beams. 

“You still have Jake,” he says quietly, while you’re laying side by side on your bed, “He’ll still be here.” You shrug. “And I’m not leaving. I’ll be with you in the shades, I’ll still be able to talk to you.” You don’t see why Hal has to be in the shades. You’ve already deleted the AI of the Condesce (she must have done something similar to how you created Hal), so what’s the big deal? You don’t want him to go. He kisses your forehead and pets your hair, coaxing you to go to sleep.

* * *

 

You aren’t there when Hal’s consciousness gets transferred. A pre-programmed drone puts his chassis somewhere, you don’t know where. You spent most of your days with Jake, hunting for treasure, killing skeletons, hanging out. You see the girls as well: mandatory dinner at Jane’s once a week, video games with Roxy whenever one of you is up for it.

"You doin' alright?" Roxy asks. You shrug, not looking away from the TV. "No, Dirk, honey, seriously. Are you okay?"

"The ship's lonely, Rox." You pause the game, laying back in your beanbag chair. "I'm lonely when you guys aren't around."

"Aww." Roxy copies your position in her own beanbag chair. "You love us."

"Yeah," you smile, "I guess I do."

"JANE!" Roxy yells.

"WHAT?" Jane yells back, somewhere else in the house.

"DIRK LOVES US!" Roxy says, and you blush. "You're fuckin' adorable, Strider, how did we not know this?"

"I'm just cool like that." You grin and sit up, unpausing the game. "I'm gonna kick your ass this round."

"Fuckin' try me, kid."

You've heard nothing from Hal. But it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re living.

You spend a few days at Jake’s, and he drops you off on the ship. He says he’ll text you tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll see him at Jane’s. Everything’s going alright. You pull off your gas mask as you enter the ship and go to your room, crashing on your bed. You need a shower, you need a nap. Adventuring is exhausting. Three weeks of adventuring? You don’t know how you and Jake have made it this far. At least he’s living out his Indiana Jones fantasies. You’re fine with being the one he rescues, as long as you’re not some helpless girl who’s in too deep. You’re not a helpless girl. You’re doing fine.

You miss Hal. He’ll message you first, he probably just needs his time.

A small tone plays somewhere in your room - not your phone, not the computer. You look around for the source. A screen installed on the wall lights up and plays a display animation; identical scalene triangles with red dots in the middle. Hal still has control of the ship. Your phone chimes - a message. 

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] 

TT: I have wonderful news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yee fuckin haw. it's done. thanks for joining me on this wild ride. 69 instances of the word 'fuck' are used. nice. please leave kudos or comment! i love the feedback! seeya next time, whatever tf i write next. lbr, i have no idea. theres a lot of old hs ideas that ive got floating around, so i might turn one of those into a fic. who knows! we'll see.  
> edit: the 69 uses of fuck was a COINCIDENCE let me LIVE  
>  
> 
> ~~and to think i almost did a fuckin trickster mode ending~~

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments and kudos! i love the feedback! <3


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